


When Life Brings Spring To Mind

by drowsyfantasy



Series: Life’s Stories [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-03-29 03:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13918545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowsyfantasy/pseuds/drowsyfantasy
Summary: It is time to march on the Citadel. Sequel to "There Is Life Still".





	1. Chapter 1

Tess had only recently begun to crawl towards Thassarian’s arms when the news arrived.

Koltira had feared that with her undead parentage and elvin heritage that she would be a slow developer. Instead, she was rolling onto her tummy and rocking back and forth at just a few months. She was still babbling away in adorable nonsense, and eating _voraciously_ , but according to the healers and midwives, she was doing well.

And so it was with fear in his stomach that Koltira Deathweaver answered the frantic knocking and shouting at their thick, heavy wooden door.

The messenger had come, white in his face, stammering for a moment before gathering himself and proclaiming the events of the siege. While his lover went to quietly put the babe down for a nap, Koltira took the young man in to their front room and sat him down, listening to the whole thing. They were joined by Thassarian to hear the final word - and the command.

The Battle of Angrathar the Wrathgate had ended in disaster. The Argent Tournament had come to a close. The Ashen Verdict had been formed; it was time for a final march on Icecrown. And with the devastation that the Lich King had left in his wake, no hands could be spared.

Emily and Glorianne spent the rest of the day packing everything up. It was agreed that Em, the only living human and resident of Stormwind, would stay in their home and keep it, along with taking care of Tess. By the time they had finished settling everything, it was almost dusk and the ship was in port and Koltira had picked up and put down his daughter over a dozen times but he could not walk out the front door. Every time he came near to it, he scrambled back and held her, just once more, just one last time.

Finally, as he stood in the doorway and held his sleeping babe, Emily gently took her from his arms. Thassarian turned him and marched him out the door. Glorianne closed it behind them.

He seemed almost in a trance as he was walked down between the two quiet, human Death Knights to the harbour. They passed dockhands and sailors loading and unloading their own boats, who parted in silence for the trio. All three bore their full armour - polished and repaired, with the regalia of the Scourge having been altered to allow for the new Ebon Blade insignia as well as a touch of Stormwind and Alliance detail. High King Varian himself had helped forge the black lion’s head pauldrons with golden eyes, a fine detail.

They had just enough time to shove Koltira up the gangplank to the deck before the ship was moving, casting off from the shore. Only then did they stop to peer at the elf between them. He still seemed in a silent state, locked within himself.

The clatter of bells in the harbour to announce the ship had completely left its moorings seemed to shock him out of his torpor. He looked about himself, almost confused for a moment, as Thassarian put their bags down in a corner of one of the cabins.

“Thass!” Glorianne called, raising her voice in alarm as Koltira wrenched himself from her hands and tore off across the deck. Despite her undead strength, she was no match for the taller, older elf, and barely managed to keep him from doing a swan dive off the deck into the water.

Thassarian caught him in a bear hug from behind just as he reached the railing, and the howl that came from his chest was neither human nor elf, but beast, pure animal as he wailed his grief and pain and writhed against his lover’s chest.

She pressed into his front and wrapped her arms around the both of them, helping Thassarian keep his balance as Koltira’s screams became sobs; his daughter’s name echoed across the dark-wine waters of the bay as Stormwind disappeared slowly into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they managed to bundle Koltira into their cabin, the three of them were exhausted. Death Knights didn’t have to sleep, but a stressful day still meant they wanted to relax. Thassarian and Koltira sat on one of the bunks as Glorianne went above-decks to explore a bit.

“With any luck, the campaign will be a short one.” the human had his arms around Koltira, the elf’s head leaning back against his shoulder. “We won’t be gone long. Maybe a month or so.”

“She’s still so small…” he wasn’t screaming anymore; he’d become withdrawn and quiet. With his head turned up at the ceiling of the low cabin, he rocked back and forth a little, hands grasping at nothing. “I have to get back to her as soon as we can. We both do.” he moved, laying down and looking over at Thassarian. “She needs us.”

“She’ll be fine, she’ll be safe with Emily.” Thassarian laid down with him, trying to be reassuring, “There’s no one there to wish her harm.”

“I hope to one day have the confidence that you do,” Koltira groused, his ear flicking as the cabin door opened.

“The captain says it’ll be at least a day or two’s more journey to Northrend,” Glorianne murmured as she closed it behind her and sat on the other bunk, starting to take off her armour at last. She piled it with her bags under the bunk, then pulled her legs up, watching the other two across the room.

“Fair weather should get us there faster,” Thassarian nodded, “but once we get close enough, the seas might get rougher.”

“I hope I don’t get seasick,” Koltira muttered, and his companions chuckled.

“Well, don’t eat anything, and I’m sure you’ll be fine.” his human kissed his nose. Koltira wrinkled it up and nipped at Thassarian’s in response.

“Don’t get cute with me.”

“You’re the adorable one.”

“I’m gonna take another walk…” Glorianne slid off the bed with a grin, “so you two can be adorable together.”

“I am not adorable!” Koltira squawked, and Thassarian silenced him with a kiss as the door shut once more.

“Yes, you are.”

“No I’m not!”

“Why aren’t you adorable? Because you’re a walking corpse? So am I!”

“I’m not adorable because I’m not _six years old_.” Koltira huffed. “ _Children_ are adorable, not grown men!”

“You’re the exception.” Thassarian argued, glancing over. “We should get out of this armour, too. I keep jabbing myself in the cheek with my pauldrons.”

“Hah! Serves you right. _My_ cheekbones could cut glass!” Koltira snorted, but yelped with dismay when Thassarian sat upright and dumped him off the bed. “Hey!”

“You can’t come back up here until you’re soft!”

“That’s my bed too, unless you’re making me sleep on the floor!” Koltira protested, but he began to remove his armour nonetheless until he was just in his soft cloth and leathers, barefoot and climbed back in. Thassarian wrapped strong arms around him and though neither were warm, they were at least comfortable. “Am I soft enough now?”

“What about those glass-cutting cheekbones of yours?” Thassarian murmured as he brushed his lips against the elf’s face.

“Hmmm, I might be persuaded to call them soft, as long as I can keep my cutting _wit_ ,” he smirked, then gasped as his human lover’s hands migrated to his chest and pinched a nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“I think _these_ could cut through glass right now…” the rumble behind him went, and Koltira melted into his touch as his hands roamed down his chest, almost massaging as they went, both arousing and comforting. It had been a while since they’d been intimate like this. With a new baby around, they didn’t have a lot of private time. She’d wake up crying if they made too much noise (and it wasn’t like the two of them could fuck _quietly_ ) and often Koltira was so exhausted after trying to cram as much as he could into the little one’s day, to teach her and play with her and bring her around the city, that he wasn’t in the mood to fuck. Thassarian found himself comiserating with other fathers, which amused him to no end. At least Koltira didn’t have to deal with chafing nipples from breastfeeding.

“I want you…” Koltira murmured, manoeuvring himself around until he could look Thassarian in the face. His human lover framed his cheeks with his massive hands and kissed him, settling them side-by-side on the bed again, the two of them taking their time to explore, to re-learn one anothers’ bodies as though for the first time once more. They had never met while both were alive, and sometimes it pained Thassarian, wishing they had had that chance, but this meant more to him, having that body against his, pressed so tightly, crushing his lips to the elf’s long ear and growling how much he loved him.

After working themselves into a more comfortable position, Koltira threw a leg up and over Thassarian’s hip, grinding against him, hearing and feeling the groan against his lips, the vibration of the human’s desire, pure and unrestrained. It sent a jolt of sensation straight to his cock and he thrust a little, missing his mark until Thassarian slid a hand down into his pants and closed his palm around the elf’s swollen flesh, making him whine in the back of his throat and nose, jerking again.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” he purred, working him up, the elf helplessly writhing in his grasp like an eel, squirming on the bed, holding on to his biceps. “I bet you’re going to come quickly for me…”

“Uh huh, uh huh-” his hips were snapping up, Koltira embarassed at how hard and desperate he was. Thassarian talking down to him like that made it all the more dirty, and he could still blush, he would’ve been bright right now. “F-fuck, Thass, don’t stop-”

“Come in your pants like a horny teenager,” Thassarian hissed in the elf’s long ear, biting and rolling the edge of it between his blunt teeth, “dirty yourself up like a desperate boy, too far gone to be any good in bed-”

Koltira came with a sobbing cry, shuddering, feeling his release like a deep, throbbing ache, pulsing with pleasure as he filled Thassarian’s hand with hot cum and felt the stickiness drip on the insides of his pants. As he came down, head pounding, he mewled a little, shifting his hips. “Euwww…”

“You made a mess,” his human lover teased, drawing out his hand and wiping it on Koltira’s shirt. The elf squealed in dismay and disgust, peeling it and his pants off at the same time, mopping up his hips and thighs, glaring half-heartedly at his human lover.

“You did that!” he protested weakly, and Thassarian only laughed and tugged him down again, taking one of the elf’s hands and pressing it on top of his own needy erection through the cotton under-armour pants.

“Come on. You can do the same to me.”

“We didn’t bring sleep-clothes. Glorianne is going to hate us.”

“Ahh, if she has any sympathy for new parents, she won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've been so quiet lately! we've been crazy busy and I haven't had a chance to write much. Promise that I'll write more of everything soon!


	3. Chapter 3

He stood on the deck of the ship, watching the icebergs they passed with some trepidation. The north seas had been choppy, and even though Thassarian and Glorianne managed to sleep through the worst of it, Koltira had found himself above-decks, pacing and keeping watch. He was too paranoid to rest, hearing and sensing danger pretty much everywhere.

But those who sailed the ship knew what they were doing, it seemed, because they were close enough to the docks that he could hear the seagulls. In fact, he could hear and see the seagulls like he’d never seen them before.

Even Stormwind had not been this screech-y.

When they started to circle the ship, he went down into it and began packing up their things once more. The other two helped him, and when the ship-hands came down and politely began knocking on cabin doors, they were ready.

“They had better not poop in my hair,” Koltira grumbled as he looked up, pulling the hood of his cloak up to his face. Thassarian chuckled at him and rolled his eyes.

“They’re just seabirds, Deathweaver; you’re so ridiculous. Come on. We have to get our orders.”

The trio of Death Knights made their way through the shipyard and towards the line-up of people before a table. By the time they got to the front, the recruiters didn’t even seem surprised that they were there. A few mumbled instructions and Thassarian’s careful note-taking later, they were on their way, flying above the tundra on borrowed griffins.

“I’m glad they know where they’re going,” Glorianne called over, as they sped through the icy air, “so I can get a good look below us! Look over there!” She pointed to burning farmsteads with scourge scuttling on the ground, and huge, walrus-people down by the shoreline. “If we had more time, I would’ve liked to have walked!”

“Walk? Across all _this_? You’re crazy,” Koltira shook his head, his hands buried deep in the griffin’s fur and feathers to hold its reins tightly without having to show how nervous he was while flying. “I can’t wait to land in Dalaran and get a nice warm fire going. Melt some of this ice.” He kicked a little with his leg, knocking off some of the condensation that was beginning to freeze on his armour.

“Should we be freezing up?” Thassarian noticed what he was doing, and looked up. Dark storm clouds had gathered while they weren’t looking. “It’s cold, but not _that_ bad…”

At that moment, the rain began to pour. It was like getting dumped with a constant bucket of ice water; little chunks of hail and ice and snow along with the rain had instantly drenched them, and the sudden doubling of weight on already-heavy plate armour caused the overly-taxed griffins to buckle, and all six of them went plummeting down through the darkened skies with barely enough time to start screaming before they hit the mountainside.

When he came to, everything hurt, and he was half-out of a mountain river, with his legs still in the flow. Using great effort, Koltira crawled forward, heaving his heavy armour out of the water, rolling over on to the bank. He blinked a few times.

_Is that...smoke?_

“Over here!” called a voice, and he rolled over with a series of icy clanks. Glorianne was waving to him from a shadowy place to his left, and he staggered, managing to get to his feet once more, and began to drag himself over the rocks and into what appeared to be a small cave in the side of the mountain.

“Is Thassarian finding more wood? How long have I been out? Why didn’t he pull me up here?” he groused, beginning to unsnap his heavy plate and put it off to try. At least it wasn’t raining, but he would ice up too quickly if he kept it all on. “Are the griffins nearby? Where’s-”

“Koltira, stop.” Glorianne cut him off, and her voice was thin and bitter. “He was swept further downstream and over a waterfall. I don’t know where he is. The griffins went with him. I managed to pull you up enough so that you wouldn’t get washed away too, but I did something to my arm and couldn’t pull you any more.” she gingerly poked her left arm. It was laying across her lap at a bad angle. “I don’t think it’s broken, just dislocated. Hurts like hell.” she glanced up at him. “It would be great if you could get more wood…”

He was standing, taking it all in. His stomach had dropped when she admitted that Thassarian was missing, but...but surely he couldn’t have gone _too_ far? And if they had managed to survive, surely he would, too. _Firewood. Go get firewood_. Good, a distraction. “I’ll be back,” he nodded, and without thinking, began to peel off the rest of his layers of soaked, icy clothing.

“Umm...Koltira?”

 _Right_. He avoided looking at her, putting his things by the fire. “I was in the river. I can’t keep wearing them. They’ll freeze to my skin and rip me apart.” He complained, and quickly headed out with just his runeblade.

About a hundred yards away, a small copse of lean fir trees awaited him, and Koltira began chopping them down. He worked up enough of a sweat to at least feel a little warm again, despite the fact that he was already dead. Hyper-focused on what he was doing in order to keep himself from worrying about things he couldn’t control, the elf didn’t notice the bear until it was attacking him.

Glorianne looked up from the fire when something darkened the cave entrance. With the sun setting, she had gotten worried, wondering if she could go out looking for him. However, it was Koltira - albeit Koltira covered in blood.

“Are you all right!?” she stumbled to her feet. The fire had almost died, but he quickly began throwing bloodied branches on it. It hissed back into proper flames as she took a few steps back.

“I’m fine. It’s not my blood,” he laughed, kneeling and putting more logs on. Then, he held up a finger. Glorianne raised an eyebrow, amused, and waited, then gasped as he began to tug an enormous bear-skin, mostly dry but still covered in blood, over the cave entrance. He propped it there with the heaviest of trees that he’d managed to bring back. “To keep the heat in,” he explained, as he finally turned back. He frowned as Glorianne coughed and delicately looked away. “What? I told you, it’s not my - _ohhh_.” He looked down. Of course he was still naked. With a sigh, he began to re-arrange his icy things around the fire to try and help them dry off more quickly. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

“Yeah, but that was under _very_ different circumstances.” Glorianne pointed out, still nursing her arm. “Do you think you’d be able to help me with this? I can’t function until I get it back in place.”

“Fine. Sit still.” He got up and made his way around the fire to her, where she sat on the ground. He braced one hand on her side and took her shoulder in the other. “On count of three, yeah? One...two!” he lifted and _pulled_ , and Glorianne _screamed_ in agony as he popped it back into its joint. A few moments of tears and experimental movements later, they were satisfied that it was fixed, and promptly collapsed together next to the flames.

“You need to wash that off.” Glorianne finally poked Koltira’s bloodied arm. “You’re going to stink come morning.”

“I’m not going in that river again,” he snorted, then smirked. “I could always just _sweat_ it off.”

“By doing what? Last time you chopped down all those trees, you also managed to kill a bear. Next time you’ll kill _two_ bears and get even _more_ gross.”

Koltira nudged her arm until she was glaring at him, and then made a show of arching his eyebrows suggestively, showing off and flexing a little.

“ _Oh_ , for the love of - Koltira, _I’m not interested in men_ , let alone someone who’s practically _married_ to another man! And what would Thassarian say?” she scowled at him, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re still blushing.” He chuckled playfully, and she smacked his hand away. He rested back, watching her for a moment as her face changed. “I was joking - er, half-joking, anyway, I mean, I would never - you know what I did before, with Menethil-”

“Emily and I haven’t - since I died.” Glorianne blurted out, staring into the fire. “I...she...we weren’t sure if it worked the same way anymore.”

“Trust me,” Koltira deadpanned, “everything works the same way. Thass and I-”

Glorianne laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I mean, but that’s - for men, it’s always worked the same way. A man could be on his true deathbed and still have one.” She fiddled with the knees of her pants. Her armour was also drying, but her inner clothes apparently hadn’t gotten soaked, and she was still in breeches and top. “I...I tried to do what we’d done before, but I couldn’t feel anything, and I just...she was too scared to try to, you know, do to me what men do.” her cheeks were dark blue with the flush of un-oxygenated blood.

The air was silent and still for a few moments, since the dead did not need to breathe.

“If you want,” he stared straight ahead into the fire, watching the flames lick the shadows of the cave, “we could find out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dawn was silent and cold. Koltira was dressed again, his clothes fully dry, but the fire was dying. They would need more wood. He cast a glance at the sleeping Death Knight curled up by the embers, and then walked out.

The hills around the area were steep and he headed in the opposite direction of the night before. He followed the river downstream for a bit, before finding more trees in a clearing near where the river became falls, and unsheathed his sword, starting to hack away at the skinnier trunks.

He was so focused on woodcutting - a simple act, mindless and freeing in its singleness - that he failed to notice the shadow behind him that was not cast by anything visible.

Koltira didn’t notice anything but the trees in front of him until he was being hit over the head and then everything went dark again.

His vision swam as he came to, and with a sickening jolt in his stomach, he realized he’d been restrained, on his back, limbs spread out like a starfish.

_No. No, not again, please, no…_

“Good morning, you little whore.”

“Blackburn!” Koltira snarled, yanking furiously at his bindings, writhing on the table. “You petulant, lying bastard! Let me _go_!”

“No, no, I don’t think I will.” Blackburn put his hands on the heavy table and peered at him with a sickly grin. Most of his teeth were intact. Most. “How fortuitous of you to stumble right into our grasp, Deathweaver. It’s good to have you back. We need to start working on you right away if we’re to meet production levels.”

Koltira felt ill again, light-headed, as he watched the apothecary reach for a familiar-looking set of tools. “What are you doing?” he demanded, squirming. “I don’t have anything inside me right now, you idiot!”

This seemed to give the man pause. He turned, squinting at Koltira. “But what about…?” the elf could see the wheels turning in Blackburn’s head. His expression turned to one of anger. “ _You had them removed before they were ready_ ,” he hissed, throwing down a scalpel to the floor and storming from the room.

“If all you’re going to do is have a temper tantrum, would you mind letting me go?” Koltira yelled after him, but there was no response. He sighed and looked around, taking in his surroundings: this place was different from the Acherus. The walls were stone, blue with cold and ice. When he spoke, it came out in puffs of air. Curious, he drew in a deep breath, and let out a cloud of steam. “Huh. I must be even further north. Didn’t figure it could get this cold _inside_ a building.”

He didn’t have to wait for very long. With a sense of impending doom that started in his chest and spread outwards from there, Koltira began to hear footsteps in the hall. There was one set, heavy and angry and methodical, and one frantic, dancing and hopping around in anger. And when the door slammed open, almost off its hinges, his fears were confirmed.

Arthas was beautiful and terrifying in his rage, pausing in the doorway for less than a moment before striding across the room and grabbing the elf by the throat, hauling him up as much as his bindings would allow. The one across his chest made dangerously loud groaning noises as the strap pulled tight. “How _dare_ you _defy_ your _master_ …” he hissed, and Koltira felt delicate blood vessels snapping in his neck. He didn’t need to breathe, or have blood flow to the head, but it was still going to leave him with marks. He wanted to reply, give a snappy comeback, but he was powerless to speak without air, and just rasped something before he was let go.

The back of his head hit the table and Arthas slammed his metal-covered gauntlet into the dark wood. “Blackburn. Prepare him. We’re keeping him under lock and key this time. And speed up the process. We can’t afford to waste another moment.”

_No. No, no no no no…_

Blackburn was busy dipping into bottles, the sound of glass and metal clinking on the side of the room. Arthas was all he could see, though, and he was not a welcome sight. He was somewhat frantic at first, cutting through Koltira’s armor and clothing with whatever sharp objects he could reach. The elf refused to let him have any easy go of it, kicking and flailing as much as he could with all the bindings still on him. It was an exercise in exhaustive futility though, as he could barely move at all, and Arthas had immense strength and protection.

Cold sweat dripped from his brow, and he was clammy and nauseated as he lay on his back on the table, entire body trembling from exertion as Arthas just chuckled at him, finally removing his own heavy plate.

The human was built thick and wide, like a brick wall, not unattractive, Koltira’s delirious mind rampaged, perhaps in another life, before, and he could see why the man had been so popular. But he had been made hideous by his purpose, and the elf chewed his lip as he watched him disrobe.

“I would take you on my own bed,” Arthas cooed, voice still tinged with anger, but now was mocking him with it, “and make you _moan_ for me, and make you _like_ it, and that would be the sweeter revenge. I would fill you up over and over, and have you carry my children, and with every one that Blackburn took from you, you would know that I would soon pump you full again. I will breed you like the bitch that you are, until you are fat with child, the way you should be, you elven slut.”

Koltira _roared_ and writhed, hot anger blinding him, and he almost got free just as he started to feel slick, probing fingers pushing inside him. He whimpered as the feeling began to subdue him, the magicks and herbs in the lubricating concoction making him passive like never before.

“It’s a good blend,” he heard Blackburn say from the other side of the table. “I bet if I gave it to him in constant doses, My Lord, you _could_ keep him in your bed.”

“Wouldn’t he be a pretty sight, spread out and hungry for me…” Arthas laughed, nasty, using more and more of the lubricant. By the time he was done, he was able to safely unbuckle Koltira from his bindings and drag him down off the table. The elf felt limp and on fire all at once; his cock throbbed and he felt dizzy and light-headed. The apothecary had done something to the mix, making him passive and agreeable.

He found himself slumped against Arthas, as the man rubbed his back in a soothing way. Arthas was sitting on the table, somehow, and he was in Arthas’ lap now. When had that happened? It didn't matter. Koltira was on fire, squirming now, panting unnecessarily, rocking back and forth, grinding against the Lich King’s lower belly as he felt the man’s cock pushing into his aching hole.

It was good, and it was _good_ , and if he could cry, Koltira would have been crying. He did everything to convince himself he didn’t want it, couldn’t be enjoying it, and yet he _was_ , sick with it, hands like claws in Arthas’ back and shoulders as he was fucked, bounced up and down in the man’s lap, riding his cock and hard against his own belly.

Koltira tried to force himself to vomit but couldn’t do it, realizing that _he_ was now fully riding that fat cock in his ass, that Arthas had stopped moving altogether, and was _laughing_ at him. The dizziness had come back in full force and he closed his eyes tight and pretended it was Thassarian.

It was a blur after that. Laughter, cruel laughter and moaning in his ears, the sensation of being filled with cum, and a hand that was not his own on his dick, jacking him the last few seconds until he was done too, cold and sticky all over his chest and stomach, and then he was being carried and laid down somewhere, gently, not a table at all, but not a bed. Maybe a pallet of straw on the floor. He closed his eyes and prayed for a death that would not come for him.


	5. Chapter 5

Koltira woke up in a bed that was not his own, and with no desire to leave it.

In a hazy field of pleasure, he rolled over a bit and stretched, luxuriously, like a cat. He felt his muscles pull, the sweet burn of it, and twisted a little in the silken sheets. He felt good from the tips of his ears all the way down to his toes, like a hot bath after a good meal. Things he hadn’t felt since he was alive.

Pausing, curious, Koltira reached down and felt at his body. No, he was still covered in scars and stitches, and cold to the touch. He was still _definitely_ dead. Idly, he brushed his hands over his stomach, and with a cold sense of awakening in the back of his head, felt that it was no longer flat. It wasn’t huge, but it definitely wasn’t pure taut muscle.

He sat bolt upright, shaken out of his stupor. How long had he been like this? He looked around the room frantically. The master bedroom of the Citadel didn’t have anything to indicate passage of time. Outside the windows howled the storms of Northrend. Flames lit the wall sconces and the black silken sheets he lay in made his white-blue skin look both handsome and ghastly at the same time.

Koltira tried to calm himself and focus, tried to - to reach out, or something, putting both hands on his stomach and tried to think. He felt a bit foolish, trying to call out to his latest unborn... _thing_ , but it was worth a shot. Unfortunately, he couldn’t feel anything at all. With a sigh, he lay back down in the pillows. Was it even worth it to try and get free at this point? In despair, he rolled over on his side and buried his face in a pillow. It didn’t smell like Arthas - it didn’t smell like _anything_ \- so maybe this wasn’t their shared bedroom. Maybe this was a recovery room. Wincing and closing his eyes, Koltira felt down between his legs. He winced when he felt they were still sticky; evidently Arthas had taken him again not too long ago. That would explain why he felt so lazy and agreeable - from that terrifying concoction of lubricant. Still, there was no mess on the sheets (it would have been immediately noticeable) so it hadn’t been _here._

He sat up fully, swinging his legs out over the side of the bed and tried to stand. He managed, with only a slight wobble, and made his way to a window. Peering behind the curtain got him a face full of snow, and trying to look around just got him a frostbitten face, so he pulled back. They were high off the ground, because he could see the snow falling and falling and falling forever below them.

Koltira wiped the mess from his face and began to look around the room again. He went to the door and tried it - of course it was locked. It was locked from the outside, meant to keep him a prisoner. It was a gilded cage, but still a cage. He thought of trying to bang on it for a moment, but then thought better of it. He made a full lap of the room before he realized he could still hear Byfrost’s call to him. Blinking, he followed the sensation to a curtain behind the bed, and drew it.

He recoiled and let the curtain drop. The image had been burned into his mind: his runeblade, defiled, piercing the heart of some enchanted creature in the wall, from which the blood flowed endlessly. It was disgusting, a mockery of its purpose, and made him feel sick to his stomach. He lurched back to the bed and sat down hard, wondering how many times he had seen it before. How many times had he woken up in this room? How long had this been going on? Did the lubricant make him forget, or just keep him drugged up enough to not care, and the memories eventually faded? Koltira sighed, closing his eyes and let himself fall back into the sheets. The silk was soft against his skin; at least he had this kindness. The mattress wasn’t a straw tick, it was soft. Perhaps feather-stuffed. He reached up and grabbed a pillow, putting it under his head even as he lay halfway across it, with his knees and lower legs dangling off the side.

When he heard voices and scrambling at the door, he blocked it out. He was steeling himself, ready for the next violation, preparing himself mentally for the assault by trying to lock himself into a trance. Perhaps this was why he never remembered -

“Koltira!”

His eyes opened. _That_ wasn’t Arthas.

Two sets of arms flung themselves around him, hugging him tightly and lifting him up off the bed. He flailed for a moment before awkwardly grabbing at the two figures, trying to hug back.

“We found you. We found you.” Thassarian was holding his face now, stroking his cheeks and his hair, touching his skin, shaking and trembling. He looked worn, more drawn and pale than usual. He had new scars in his skin, new dents in his armour.

“How...how long has it been?” It was hard to speak. His throat was dry, his mouth was full of cotton.

“Three months.” Glorianne whispered. He felt his heart sink as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her close, burying her under his chin for a moment before letting both of them go to sit back.

“Do you have anything I can wear?” he managed, looking between the two of them.

Thassarian winced. “We...hadn’t expected to find you naked, I suppose.” he began digging through his bags.

Koltira turned to the freckly death knight beside him. “Byfrost is…” he gestured. “Behind there. Be careful. I can’t touch it until it’s been cleaned, but I think it should be safe for anyone else.”

She gave him a raised eyebrow, but dutifully went to go and see about his runeblade. Koltira turned his head and closed his eyes, hearing her gasp in  horror as she pulled back the curtain. There were some wet noises, and then he felt something inside himself _release_ as he heard metal clank against stone. He found himself breathing a little easier, speaking a little easier, his mind clearing of the residual fog.

Glorianne cleaned Byfrost against the blankets while Thassarian managed to cobble together some armour for Koltira with the gear he had collected in his bags. It wasn’t pretty, but it would do, and once his sword was ready, he slid it into the half-scabbard at his side.

“Let’s go,” he stood up, wobbled, and was promptly caught by his two companions.

“Let’s take a moment,” Thassarian murmured, half-amused, and Koltira scowled at him until they helped him up again and began to walk, three abreast, out of the room and up the corridor. “We can meet the others on the way out. We had to take an _airship_ to get us up to this floor, can you believe it?”

“I believe it.” Koltira sighed as he slowly began to regain the use of his legs. “I tried looking out of the windows and couldn’t see _anything_ but snow.”

“It’s pretty miserable out there.” Thassarian agreed. They tried to keep their banter light, small talk, as they began to hurry more into the main corridors. Here, they started to run into Paladins and Death Knights, who greeted them briefly before pointing them towards the way out.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s the final push,” Glorianne explained. “We’ve been scouring the Citadel looking for you, but they haven’t found Menethil yet. He _must_ be on the roof - that’s the only other place he could be, but we haven’t figured out how to get _up_ there.”

Frowning, Koltira concentrated. “Scourge buildings all use teleporters.” he looked around, and both his companions nodded. “We’re on the highest level.” he was trying not to look down at the endless plunging depths below them. “That platform there, in the middle. Has anyone tried it?”

“It doesn’t respond.” Glorianne shook her head. “Tirion thinks we must have missed something.”

“We have.” Koltira narrowed his eyes, nodding at it. “Come on. Bring me over there.”

Curious, the both of them managed to bring Koltira over to it. They placed him over the inactive teleporter. “See? Nothing.”

“Arthas…” Koltira whispered, drawing Byfrost. He heard someone beside him say _Wait, what are you doing? Koltira, stop-_ “I’m _coming_ for you, Arthas,” he hissed, and with all his strength, drove Byfrost through the light plate which didn’t quite cover his stomach, all the way through to the back.

With a wild howl of magic, the teleporter activated, whisking all three of them up to the roof. Koltira heard screaming over the wind whipping through his hair, felt pure agony from the sword through his gut, dizzy and tired and just wanting to go back to sleep. He grunted, knees giving out, grateful for Thassarian’s strong arms around him.

It was then that he heard the Lich King’s words rip through his mind, and he _screamed_ in agony like never before, a new level of unimaginable pain in his mind at the fury and the rage being directed towards him, funneled in a torrent of pure hatred. He was in too much pain to understand, but it wasn’t unexpected.

In between the blasts of brain-melting pain, he heard other voices, panicked and strong and angry. Others had seen the portal activate and had come through, and he _felt_ , rather than saw, Arthas coming down from the Frozen Throne, starting to attack the crowd. As Thassarian and Glorianne desperately tried to keep him conscious, he tried to conserve his strength. He wanted to face Arthas on his feet, and it was sheer stubbornness that kept him from collapsing and giving in to the hungry dark lapping at the edges of his vision.

Everything was happening all at once when his eyesight decided to work properly at last. Tirion _exploded_ from a block of ice ( _when had he been frozen?_ ) and leapt through the air, cutting the great sword and splintering it while everyone around him save his two companions floated helplessly in mid-air from its power. They collapsed, most of them groaning and reaching for their weapons - too late, too late, as Arthas rose in the air, starting to cast -

Koltira _roared_ with all the fury of a mother bear, bolting out of Thassarian’s and Glorianne’s arms, dragging Byfrost from his gut with a fresh, rotten wave of blood, and sank it deep, _deep_ into Arthas’ chest.

He felt Byfrost _sing_ as it pierced the other man, as it had never sang before, with a joy he had not known the runeblade capable of possessing.

Koltira could still heard the song ringing in his ears when he hit the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Laughter. Someone was shaking him awake. Koltira opened his eyes and looked up into his brother’s face.  _

_ “You’re napping again, come on! Quit falling asleep!”  _

_ “I’m tired.” he protested, trying to close his eyes again. “Leave me alone…” he rolled over on his side, feeling the flowers and grass bend under his cheek, tickling his ears.  _

_ “You’re terrible.” suddenly, grass was being dragged forcefully against his other ear and he yelped, sitting up at the angry tickling sensations. “Hah! I knew that would get you up!”  _

_ “Come back here, you little brat!” Koltira growled, trying to get up. He froze halfway up, sitting. “Faltora?”  _

_ “What is it?” his brother came bouncing back over to him, crouching down at his side. “The meadow pulling you in?” _

_ “It’s…” Koltira put a hand on his belly. He was leaking steadily, oozing a blackish-coloured liquid.  _

_ “Disgusting.” Faltora wrinkled up his nose. “Wonder what that’s all about. Does it hurt?”  _

_ “Not really.” Koltira shook his head.  _

_ “Well, come on. Are you coming, or what? Everybody’s waiting for you! We’ve been waiting so long, come on.”  _

_ Things were moving. In his head, he knew it was wrong. The hand that he’d extended upward, he took back. “Fal, I can’t.”  _

_ “Can’t? Can’t what?”  _

_ “I can’t go with you. I...I don’t want to. Not yet.”  _

_ “What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve been sleeping for so long, big brother, it’s time to wake up and go home!” Faltora pouted, crossing his stubborn arms over his chest. “You  _ owe  _ me!”  _

_ Koltira laughed and shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll be waiting a while longer.” he looked around. The meadow they were in was lined with trees, and behind him, there was a place deep in shadow where the sun didn’t quite reach. He looked at it for a moment, listening closely.  _

_ “Koltira, please don’t go back.” his younger brother said quietly, sadly. “Please, just come home with me. You’ve been through so much. Why put yourself through even more?”  _

_ “I have people who need me.” Koltira rolled over onto his hands and knees. Crawling was undignified, but he couldn’t walk right now, and he needed to get back. His lover, his friends, his daughter. “If I can still get there, I will.”  _

_ Faltora made a noise behind him, but Koltira didn’t turn. He was close now, close to that ripple of shadow in the meadow, and he could hear voices beyond. Voices he recognized. He was almost there.  _

_ Two hands went under his arms and lifted him up off the ground. He flailed for a moment, surprised, and then looked back.  _

_ Faltora had tears in his eyes, but was smiling as he stood Koltira upright on wobbly legs. “My big brother should face the world of the living on his feet,” he said, and his throat was choked, tight. “Go on, then. Go and tell my niece she has our blessing.”  _

_ “I will,” Koltira managed, and took a step -  _

The shock of cold made him come awake, the pain indescribable. He was being carried by Thassarian as Glorianne and another young woman, a healer, tried to scoop his innards back in and heal him with what they could. Her Light burned him, made him howl, but it was keeping him together long enough for his own blood magics to knit his skin back. 

“You’re very lucky, you idiot!” Thassarian was yelling at him, scolding him, trembling and shaking as the rag-tag bunch of surviving adventurers made their way through the portals to the base at the foot of Icecrown. Even High King Varian was there, but Koltira mostly felt too sick and tired. 

“Just get me back to Stormwind,” he rumbled, leaning heavily on Thassarian. 

“I’ll see if the airship will take us back to the docks -” 

“Find me a fucking  _ mage  _ and  _ make them create a portal right now. _ ” 

There was a burst of tearful laughter from nearby. Koltira looked over at the blonde, a bit bleary-eyed. She looked terrible; she’d clearly been crying for a while. Still, she came over and began casting. “Thank you,” she managed, in a voice thin from grief. “For putting an end to it all.” 

Koltira sighed as the portal opened, showing a shimmering summer evening beyond. Familiar city walls gleamed in the background. “Take me home,” he whispered, closing his eyes. 

Thassarian scooped him up fully into his arms, bridal-style, kissing his forehead. “Marry me,” he demanded finally, walking towards the glowing circle. 

“You romantic idiot. I thought you’d never ask.” 

Tess was asleep in his lap. It had been a beautiful ceremony, in freshly polished armour, with Thassarian stumbling through Thalassian vows. Koltira chuckled at the memory, playing with his daughter’s hair. She had grown while they had been away, but she’d run on her chubby little toddler legs from his front door all the way down the street when she’d seen her fathers coming up the path to the house. She had made an adorable little flower girl in the wedding, having to be shepherded along several times, but otherwise as good as gold, not crying or fussing once. Despite having eaten half her weight in cake, she was passed out cold on his lap, curled up with her little hands close to her mouth. 

He leaned back against the side of the house and watched the sun setting below the horizon. He was a married man now. Koltira made a fist with his left hand and squeezed, feeling the solid, heavy weight of the ring pressing into his fingers and palm. He smiled. He knew he’d be able to recreate that whenever he wanted, like holding his lover’s hand when he needed it most. 

Glorianne and Emily had gone home hours ago, and Thassarian was tending to the last of the guests. They’d wanted a tiny event, but so many people wanted to thank them for everything they’d done, and many Death Knights who’d settled in Stormwind had come. Koltira and Thassarian were symbols of power, love, and still standing after all the dust had settled. 

A shadow fell across the lawn and he smiled as Thassarian sat down beside him, putting an arm over his shoulders. Koltira smiled, closed his eyes and leaned into his brand-new husband. 

“I don’t know about you,” the high elf remarked, the last rays of the setting sun still warm on his face, still shining, despite everything that had happened, “but I’m ready to live happily ever after.” 

“I think I’d be good with that.” the human chuckled beside him, and kissed the top of his head. Koltira snuggled a little closer. “Yeah, I’m good with that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait to finish this! I had so many things to do during the past 2 weeks and didn't have time to work on *any* of my stories. Thank you for being so patient with me, and I hope you enjoyed their story!


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